


Warring Compulsions

by TelepathJeneral



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Other, gross narcissism, sexist slurs, t-plus one hour from breakthrough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 16:45:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2857820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TelepathJeneral/pseuds/TelepathJeneral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>More of Dennis. (What a wonderful character. Woe is me.) I'm hoping that this one is a little more accurate to in-game portrayals, but the Voices are still difficult. If there's any questions, or anything you're unsure of or want to clarify, go ahead and ask me here in the comments. There's a variety of reasons as to why I write Dennis the way he is, and I'm always up for discussion.<br/>As for Eddie, well. He's a background character. A bit-part, as it were. He has enough fanwork of his own.</p></blockquote>





	Warring Compulsions

When he was let out, he had to run. Everyone else was running, so Dennis supposed he had to run too. There wasn’t time for people to look at him, to think about him, and even as the thought wormed through his frontal lobe, he could feel the Voices stirring. It would be so easy to let them out. To rip and tear, to scream at the others until they cowered. That would be good, and proper, and easy. But there were too many of the others. And there was too much running, and the guards still had their guns.

Dennis swore.

Most of the others wanted to find the exit, to get out, but Dennis knew that that would be pointless. Everyone wanted out, so that’s where all the guards would be, and there were all the patients still Below. And the doctors.

That’s what Dennis wanted, the doctors. The doctors had never chosen him, never taken him down Below like the others, but when everyone escaped or got shot or killed themselves, then they’d have to choose Dennis. Finally, he’d get what he deserved. They weren’t careful, around him, they revealed too much, and he knew that the patients that went down Below were special. Walker was down there, the fat bastard. And Trager. Fuck, even some of the other staff got pulled down there, but _no_ , never _Dennis_.

Everyone else wanted to go up, to get out. Dennis turned to run the other way, and began searching for a way to get _down_.

He managed to find the Vocational Block, stumbling through the main door before rifling through the art supplies. He must have scared off someone else, because lockers and tables began falling over to spill paint across the wooden floor. Dennis sneered, grabbing at whatever he could, but above the background noise from outside, Dennis could hear someone else.

There was too much happening, much too fast, and no one was listening to Dennis anymore. He screamed for the first time, charged at the person who had started herding these idiots into _his_ block, but the fury etched on the other man’s face gave him a reason to pause. That was one of the patients from Below, and for the first time, Dennis didn’t want to go Below.

Red skin bubbled and stretched as the man screamed back, the primal expressions of hate and fury mixing in the midnight air. Dennis held out his paint scraper, baring his teeth, but despite the other man’s nakedness, the other patient charged without hesitation. Dennis stood his ground-he had to protect his claim, because this was _his_ and he wasn’t going to let some psycho from Below take it from him-but the other man was taller and stronger and faster, and Dennis was knocked back to have the paint scraper snatched from his hand.

By instinct, the voice of the Father bubbled up, escaping Dennis in lieu of screams or shouts. “Motherfuckin’ _shit_ , th’ fucker-“

“Water seepin’ in, boy, water rushes-“

“W-We gotta get up, if we wanna live.”

Dennis scowled, wanted to shout and protest that _no_ , he wanted to go _down_ because that’s where the _people were_ , but he needed his scraper back. That imbecile couldn’t take the scraper. Even if his mind was too far gone to assign names to the instruments, Dennis could tell that the supplies in the paint room were useful, and he would need them if he wanted to get back to the doctors.

“Give them back you _bitch_.” Dennis snarled, getting to his feet as the other man stood in the doorway, befuddled. That was the problem Below, apparently, people didn’t use fuckin’ _doors_ anymore. Dennis could’ve used that, if he went Below. But he’d have to get past this fucker first.

“Please.” The man stepped, turned. He whirled with a strange beauty, a grace Dennis would have otherwise appreciated. “We can get away from all this. Let me help you.”

“Don’t make me hurt you.” Dennis had to hesitate. He didn’t like hesitation, the itch under his skin screaming for action, for pain, for attention. But this man could be useful.

“That’s not something either of us would want.” The man tutted, keeping himself upright and elegant despite his lack of clothing. “Come, darling. A new life, just you and me.”

 _Darling?_ “Let’s go downstairs.”

“Downstairs?” The man’s face twisted, the momentary peace shattered. “You slut. You’re just like the others, you just want-“

“Listen, whore.” Dennis charged again, unable to stay still, and he went for the neck as the other man reared back. Dennis had the advantage this time, and he managed to knock the scraper away, toppling the other man to the floor. The man beneath him screamed again, arching back, and Dennis was already falling away as a fist was raised to crush him.

“ _Slut_.” A hand cracked against Dennis’s skull, and he managed to get to his feet before the next blow. “We could have been _happy_.”

“Not worth a fuckin’ _minute_ -“ The Old One spoke, hoping to distract the other man. “A waste ‘f my time.”

“We would’ve had a _beautiful_ wedding.” The man snarled, rolling over Dennis to pin him to the ground. “A bride and groom. Husband and wife.”

“Get some hair on your chest, boy-“ Dennis howled, seeing the paint scraper raised above him. “A little skirt-chaser, that’s all you are-“

“Let me make you _beautiful_.” The paint scraper plunged downward, headed for Dennis’s crotch, and he rolled in sudden alarm as the sharp edge sparked against the floor.

“You sick _bitch_.”

“Darling!”

“Get away from me!” Dennis managed to stand, heading for the stairs in the Vocational Block, and the man-the Groom-slowly got to his own feet. He was blocking the door, now, and Dennis had no way to go but up.

“Just like the rest.” The Groom snarled, advancing again, but Dennis turned to run. The first floor was mostly clear, empty of clutter, but the footsteps of the Groom below forced Dennis to keep running. He fell, stumbled, clambered up the next set of stairs, but the clutter in the attic above was enough to give him some hope. Dennis crouched behind a box, hiding beneath unused gym equipment and a box of old bedsheets. Footsteps thudded up the stairs, breathing labored and ragged because of the cancers working into the Groom’s airway. “ _Darlhingg._ ”

Dennis forced himself to be quiet, forced himself not to give in to the Voices swirling around him, and slowly, after a lifetime, the Groom turned back down the stairs. As soon as the footsteps faded, Dennis released a held breath, and in that instant all four Voices plagued him with their needs.

“Water rushin’ in from below, pushin’ up like a plague-“

“W-We shouldn’t’a run, we need t’ stay-“

“Can’t even stand up to a fucker like that, a psycho bastard not worth a minute-“

Dennis breathed, relishing the attention of the Others. He could take his time to recover here, for a moment, and then he could get past the man downstairs, and then he could just keep going. Going down, going further down, to find the doctors and patients Below. Then they’d listen to him. They’d hear his Voices and nod thoughtfully, and put him Below for good, and he wouldn’t have to deal with that bitch downstairs.

“Water drippin’ down, pissin’ down on us, c-comin’ up and comin’ down-“

He’d have to wait. He’d have to take his time. All alone, up here in the attic.

“Drippin’ down, goin’ up and comin’ down, goin’ up and comin’ down….”

**Author's Note:**

> More of Dennis. (What a wonderful character. Woe is me.) I'm hoping that this one is a little more accurate to in-game portrayals, but the Voices are still difficult. If there's any questions, or anything you're unsure of or want to clarify, go ahead and ask me here in the comments. There's a variety of reasons as to why I write Dennis the way he is, and I'm always up for discussion.  
> As for Eddie, well. He's a background character. A bit-part, as it were. He has enough fanwork of his own.


End file.
